Brothers
by BlueEyes444
Summary: Four times Dean Saved Sam. For Sid and C.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.**

**For Sid and C who are too amazing for words. :)**

**Warnings: Heavy angst, dark themes, graphic injury.**

**Spoilers: Basically all the seasons.**

* * *

><p>i.<p>

His hand is on the gun, his finger on the trigger.

The bullet hits Dean and his brother goes down and the sound echoes in his ears, and in his mind.

The sickening thud as Dean falls.

The scene repeats.

Over and over.

Sam's in the diner's bathroom, scrubbing his hands to the point of being raw. The water has turned red; the color of blood. Dean's blood.

He's shaking and his breath comes out in short pants. He has his brother's dried blood on his hands...and he can't even remember how it got there.

He can hear his brother's voice, and Sam has to fight down the lump that has formed in his throat.

It's been three days. Three days since he'd woken up at Bobby's, confused and more afraid then he let on, finding a bleeding Dean beside him and a worse for wear Bobby.

Three days and he still can't remember any of the two weeks Meg was in him. Or, that's what he says anyway. He remembers some of it. What she did, he...they did.

God.

Sam knows he can never see Jo again. Not after everything he did too her.

He can remember bits and pieces, glimpses of what M-they did here and there.

Jo's like a little sister to him.

He's not sure if she'll ever forgive him and he won't blame her if she doesn't. He certainly can't forgive himself.

And those people he killed. How many? How many did he do that they didn't know about? All of them...they were hunters...and...they were people...

Dean.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself too breathe. Dean, Dean, Dean. He shot Dean. He shot his own brother.

His hand is on the gun, his finger on the trigger.

The bullet hits Dean and his brother goes down and the sound echoes in his ears, in his mind.

The sickening thud as Dean falls.

The scene repeats.

His wristwatch beeps suddenly and he snaps his eyes open, finding himself away from the memory, back in the bathroom.

Time to go.

He stares at his reflection in the mirror above the sink and for a second, he doesn't recognize the man staring back at him. The man before him has deep circles under his eyes, is pale and drawn. And his eyes are...

What's the word he needs?

Oh.

Yeah.

Haunted.

Sam shakes his head, and turns off the water. He looks down at his hands. They have fresh blood on them.

It's his.

Raw to the point of bleeding.

He swears softly.

Even if he can still feel Dean's blood, he can't see it. And right now, that's what's important.

He can bandage them at the hotel. They're not bleeding that bad anyway.

Sam opens the bathroom before tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. He sees his brother leaning against the counter, flirting with a cute blonde. He catches Dean's eye and nods before he makes his way out and to the Impala.

Dean follows just seconds behind him but Sam's already in the car, lost in thought.

The conversation that he and Dean were having before he escaped to the bathroom was the same one that they've been having ever since Bobby's.

Dean...

He's going have to do better. The sleepless nights are getting to him and his reflexes are slower. And when they went out on a hunt, that could prove fatal. And not to mention that Dean's getting suspicious. Not that his brother is getting any more sleep then he is.

The pain of the gunshot wound (another thing for him to feel guilty about) and the simple fact that Sam had been missing for two weeks, keeps him up a lot at night. But, well, Dean's Dean and he picks up on things way too well.

If Dean and him speak on the ride, Sam doesn't register it. It takes everything he has to keep his mind clear, to keep himself from remembering.

He keeps his thoughts on the weather outside, something that is near impossible but he manages to do anyway. The weather is a much safer topic.

It takes seven minutes to reach the motel…Sam knows that for a fact. He counts on the way, another attempt to get his mind occupied. The weather can only be thought of for so long.

Dean pulls into the parking lot, before finding a parking place. Both sit in silence for a moment, and Sam counts the seconds. Yet another way to keep his mind from thinking of…it.

"Sammy I –"

"Dean I-"

Both start then break off, laughing shortly, breaking the tension that has surrounded them the whole trip.

"You go first," Sam quickly says, because if Dean goes first, it'll delay what he has to say longer.

His brother sighs then looks away, starring out the windowsill. Sam knows what he's about to say is hard. "You know…I'm not good with doing chick flick moments and all but if you want to talk about what happened…sometime…Sammy. I'm always here if you need to."

A sudden lump forms in his throat. Dean's worried about him? He shouldn't be. Sam doesn't need, or deserve it. He licks his lips, and nods stiffly. "Yeah, I know."

Silence stretches between them before Sam finds the words he needs. He glances away, willing them to come easier. "Dean, I know I've said it before, but I'm so sorry for everything. And I won't blame…."

Dean turns around and fixes him with a look that Sam knows even if he can't see it. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Sam. It wasn't your fault. It was Meg's."

Sam just nods, because he knows that tone that Dean's using and he knows it's pointless to even consider arguing. His brother shots him a look but he doesn't meet it.

Dean sighs then opens his door. "Don't even think we're done talking about this, Sam." With that, he gets out, and slams the door behind him. Sam waits for him to go to the back before pulling out one of his hands. Most of the blood is dried but some still oozes. He opens the door, noting the small smear that his hand leaves, before getting out and closing the door behind him. Dean is waiting for him and Sam's quick to shut the door and stuff his hands into his pockets again.

Both are silent as they go into their room. Dean mutters something about taking a shower and when he slips into the bathroom without another word, Sam knows he's upset. Not with him. About him.

As usual.

Sam rubs a hand through his hair tiredly before shaking his head. Not going to think about that right now. He makes the usual protective ward around the room, and just for a few very short minutes, he doesn't have to remember.

He finishes up just as Dean wanders out of the shower, in jeans but without a shirt, his hair dripping wet. Sam finds himself not able to meet his brother's eyes, and it kills him.

Dean falls onto one of the beds and sighs softly. "Sammy, go to bed."

And those words push him back to a memory that he has forgotten. Right before he goes out to get dinner, Dean telling him the same thing,

"Go to bed, Sam. It's late."

Sam shakes his head and mutters something about he's going to take a shower first then asks his brother about his shoulder.

And Dean, being Dean, says it's fine and Sam can tell that's a lie but doesn't push the subject because he knows he couldn't stand it if Dean asks him he's okay every minute.

So, he nods and heads to the shower, which when under the warm water, makes the tension in his shoulders go away.

He reluctantly washes away the blood on his hands, and now he's reminded of having Dean's blood on his hands and it hurts so bad.

Sam stumbles out of the shower, and grabs a towel from the floor that Dean had left. He dries off, his hands shaking terribly.

Sam pulls on his jeans and after some terribly long minutes of trying to festoon his belt, he gives up. He grabs his shirt and staggers into the room. The soft glow from the lamp that sits between the beds lets his eyes go instantly to his brother's sleeping form.

Sam sets down on his bed; the side closet to Dean and watches his brother for a moment.

It's true that people look younger while they sleep. Dean's stretched out across the bed, looking peaceful and relaxed.

Sam doesn't know how long how he watches Dean's chest raise and fall with each breath but suddenly he finds himself staring in tired and concerned eyes.

"Sammy? What's wrong?" His voice is thick with sleep.

Sam shakes his head and pulls himself onto his bed better. "Couldn't sleep," he admits quietly, looking away. Even in the semi darkness, he knows Dean's staring at him intently.

The sheets rustling as his brother moves. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Sam winces. How can he possibly answer that without getting it too other things he doesn't want to talk about? "Thought I would get there soon," he lies, something he hates doing to Dean but knows it must be done if he's too avoid what was keeping him up.

Silence and Sam wonders what Dean's thinking. He has a pretty good guess.

"Want to talk about it?" Sam knits his brews together and resists the urge to look at his brother. When had they switched positions? It was always Sam who was the one to ask that, Dean being the one to close off.

God. When had everything gone so…wrong?

Sam settles back and lays his head on the pillow. "It's nothing."

Dean sighs and that one sigh says a lot. "You know, Sam, I meant it when I said we're not doing talking about this."

Yeah. He knew it.

He doesn't reply, because really, what's there left to say?

In the small Minnesota hotel room, they couldn't be further away from each other.

xxx

That night, Sam dozes lightly, afraid to let himself sleep anymore then that. Afraid that the nightmares would come. Nightmares, memories, flashbacks. Whatever you wanted to call them.

He wakes up from his latest doze to Dean's soft voice.

"…okay. Let me check with Sam, Ellen and I'll get back with you."

Another hunt.

Sam pulls himself up, feeling groggy, just as Dean walks out of the bathroom, already dressed.

"Ellen called. She has a hunt for us six miles out of town. You up for it?"

xxx

What had made him say yes? Sam wonders this as he creeps through the foliage, careful of where he places his feet. Maybe it was Dean, who looked like he was more then happy to do something. Maybe it was the fact that Dean was clearly putting their late night discussion off until later and Sam was hoping to put it off until even later.

Or maybe he's stupid.

What ever the reasoning behind his answer, Sam was seriously regretting it.

A vampire. Or so the signs pointed at a vampire.

Dean was doing the investigative side right now. Because as Sam pointed out, he wasn't going to be doing much his shoulder hurt.

And after an argument, Dean didn't want him out of his sight, that he won, Sam was currently creeping through lots of flowage.

After their vampire.

Or, in this case, blood-drinking-psycho.

Setting his jaw, Sam slithers into a brush and waits. He can make out the man perfectly from where he watches but he's not sure what he's doing.

The redhead is crouched down, looking at something. Sam can't make out what it is from his position but it has the other man intrigued.

The sound of an airplane flying right over blocks out the sound of a trig snapping behind him.

Suddenly, Sam tenses and freezes. He's not sure what it is but something's not right.

Everything then goes black.

xxx

Sam wakes up to his head throbbing painfully and the feel of blood running down from his hairline.

It's on the third try, he manages to open his eyes a little and the world is blurry, tilting and unfocused. He can't make out anything very well; his stomach rocking from the movement.

"What part of 'don't hit him so hard' did you not understand, idiot?" He can't make out the person, but the voice is male. Sam's vision is too blurry and his head hurts too much to make out the owner.

"I didn't hit him that hard," whines another voice. A female. "And don't call me idiot."

Each word sends a spike of pain through his head. He lets his eyes flutter the rest of the way closed, not having the strength to keep them open any longer.

He hears footsteps circle him and it takes him a moment to focus.

"What are we going to do with him?" The man who spoke just a second ago. Sam struggles to concentrate.

"Funny. I'm more concerned about the fact he found stupid Andrew." Another woman. Maybe.

"I checked his pockets. No ID." Another man. God. His head hurts so much. Darkness presses on his mind, beckoning for him to join it and he struggles not to follow.

"What…we…do… him?" First man, his voice fading as Sam starts to loose the waging battle of keeping awake.

"…on…I…" Then, Sam's lost into the darkness.

xxx

Sam slips in and out of pain filled consciousness several times. He's not aware of much anything anymore. Just the distant feeling of something.

xxx

"Hey…come on. It's time to wake up."

Sam's thrown cruelly from the painless darkness to the pain field light when the woman speaks.

The pain is pretty bad and it takes everything for him not to make a sound. It takes him a moment to open his eyes and when he does he finds himself looking in the blurry form of a blonde women.

The next few minutes are passed in a blur. The nurse and doctors ask him all these questions that he mutters a response too and all he can think (worry) about is Dean.

Because isn't it a rule? That whenever you wake up in a hospital, you have your brother by you?

And it's only after the final doctor goes out that he realizes that he hasn't been alone.

"Dean?" he whispers, wincing at the pain in his head.

His brother appears from the bathroom and instantly, is beside him, features tired.

"Sammy?"

Sam wets his lips. "What happened?"

Dean sighs, sitting down on the bed beside Sam and he can see a mixture of worry and relief across his face. "It wasn't a vampire. A teenage cult. FBI has them now."

Sam unconsciously attaches his hand to Dean's arm. "How did you find me?"

The look Dean shoots him is one he knows all too well. "Big brother, Sammy, remember?" Then he raises his hand. "And before you say anything, we need to get some things cleared up. Like, you. And the fact it wasn't your fault about Meg."

Sam sighs, tightening his hold around Dean. "Okay. Yeah…I agree we do need to talk. You're right."

Dean smirks.

"Don't let it go to your head," Sam warns, smiling, the first real time in a long time.

ii.

iii.  
><em>"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! NOW, DEAN, GO!"<em>

His father's words echo in his ears.

Dean flinches as he hears his brother's hoarse cry from the panic room. God.

His heart shatters for about the millionth time

He bites his thumb nail a little. Something he only does when he's extreamly stressed.

Like now.

A pain filled moan and oh, God, Sammy.

Dean's sitting right outside the tightly closed panic room, and it's torture but God, it's his fault that Sam ended up this way anyway.

"_Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! NOW, DEAN, GO!"_

He was supposed to keep him safe. Not let him get addicted to demon blood.

He wipes a hand across his face and bites down on his lip so hard he can taste the famailer taste of blood.

A strangled cry from his brother and Dean fights the urge to pound the wall.

He needs to stay strong.

For Sam.

He edges closer to the door and rests his palm against it.

Even if he couldn't save Sam last time, he'll save him this time.

And in order to do that, he needs to stay on this side of the door.

He swallows hard.

iii.

You will never forget him.

He is dead, they say.

You have nothing left to say to them.

He wore sunglasses and you jogged by the ocean and you left prints in the sand and the sky was filled with stars and for once everything was okay.

You can hear his voice in your head. It is a wail, lost in time's hands.

Sam, Sam.

xxx

Sam, Sam.

The smell of blood lingers on your breath, and you stare at yourself in the cracked mirror that is chipped beyond repair and wonder what reality really is.

You hate yourself.

Or you think anyway.

You don't really feel much anymore.

xxx

"Would you?" she says with a beautiful smile. "Would you, Sam?"

"I don't know."

Because you don't.

Not really.

"For your brother," she says and the dagger is thrown carelessly into your heart and it hurts so, so bad.

The words are caught in your throat.

You tremble and the world rushes around you and you're back with him, talking about girls, beer and life when you're fourteen.

She strokes your arm and it's like the air is breathing. You flinch.

"Do it," she says easily, fixing you with her stare and you can't breathe.

The dagger is pushed futher.

So, this is what freedom is.

xxx  
>You can't do it again...it was not right.<p>

You freeze.

The memory of her eyes are enough to drown it all.

You love her.

She's the only one who really understands right?

You are like words falling from paper, catching the wind to fly.

Above you, the black abyss opens and the night is filled with screaming stars.

You smile.

xxx  
>You smile.<p>

The body is broken and bleeding below you and you feel the power rush through your vains and the blood is on your breathe and it's like a never ending high and you can't get enough.

The screams echoe through the stars and back.

It was not hard.

xxx

In the end, it was not hard.

To take another life, to do the thing you know he would hate you for.

It was not hard.

You don't recognize the perosn in the mirror anymore.

xxx  
>And then comes the dawn.<p>

You're laughing in the sun and you're four and he's eight and his laugh echoes through the black.

Dean, Dean, Dean.

"Will you do another?"

She stares at you.

You hastiate.

_This is how the world ends._

iv.

_You could cut then tenison with a knife._

_x_

Sam comes back...the same little brother that is his world...yet so dfferent.

And so hard, and cold, and merciless, and such a _liar_.

(a monster)

Everything is soso wrong.

The sharp steel that reflects in dark eyes. The empty expresison he wears when he thinks nobody is watching.

Dean's determinded to save him.

(But, is this one time he can't?)

xxx

It hurts.

He watches the cold creature that is called his brother and he feels his heart break as he watches and waits and it's all he can do.

He speaks and speaks and to him, Dean says nothing because his brother's words are empty and flat and there is nothing to say.

(He'll save him.)

Right?

xxx

Sammy? Soulless?

Somehow, it doesn't surprise him.

Because Sam wouldn't act like this without a reason.

Dean'll save his brother because that's all he ever does. Saves and fixes.

xxx

His pain echos in his head where reality flowered no dream. What is there to seek in reality? There is reality and there is the ability to really live.

Dean watches him and Sam says he's fine and he thinks he should believe Sam because he knows when the younger man is lying but he's found out he doesn't believe much anymore.

xxx

"Dean, I'm fine."

It fades into the passing night.

xxx

It fades into the passing night.

Sam's nightmares, dreams, flashbacks, whatever you want to call them, they fade into the night around them.

But, the memories, they still pulse.

xxx

It'll take time.

But, he'll finish his rescue.


End file.
